i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

i il^ap §mrW In 

Shelf „xL.?.£- 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Poems. 


BY 


ALBERT LAIGHTON. 


/tv- -■■'■■"■■'--"A 


BOSTON: 


A. WILLIAMS AND CO. 


PORTSMOUTH, N.H. : 


MERCER GOODRICH. 


1878. 



.1)52. 



Copyright, 

By Albert I,aighton, 

1878. 



Cambridge : 
Press of John Wilson 6^ Son. 



t^w 



TO MY COUSIN, CELT A THAXTER. 



/I MONG the floivers of song I offer here^ 

Sunned niith my smiles and wet with many a tear, 

Thy na?ne, long cherished, like a flower T bletid^ 
O more to 7ne than frie^id; 



Knowing full well that other lips will say, 
Not all in vain these blossoms of to-day. 
So soon to fade and lose their faint perfumes, 
For here an ainaranth blooms ! 



^ 




CONTENTS. 



POEMS. 

PAGE 

Dedication v 

My Treasures ii 

Yesterday and To-day 15 

To MY Soul 17 

A Dream 19 

A Thought of Burns 20 

Zodiacal Light 22 

To H. McE. K 23 

The Mystery 25 

New England 26 

Found Dead 28 

Edith 31 

My Native River 32 

Joe 34 



vm CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Wreck 37 

The Necropolis 38 

The Two Worlds 40 

The Missing Ships 42 

A Hymn of Confession 47 

Ebb and Flow 49 

The Dead 51 

The Chimes 53 

An Invocation 54 

To A Bigot ^6 

Farragut 1% 

Memorial Hymn 60 

Dedication Ode 63 

The Lengthening Day 65 

The First Robin ^d 

Under the Leaves 68 

June 70 

The Humming-bird 72 

The Summer Shower 'j-^ 

Fireflies ^j^ 

Autumn 78 

In the Woods 79 

The Winter Rain 81 

Frostwork 83 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

The Skaters 85 

A Passing Thought 88 

Hyacinths 89 

The Birth of Light 91 

Beauty 95 

Ode of Welcome in 



SONNETS. 

To T. B. A 119 

On a Lock of Farragut's Hair 121 

Trailing Arbutus 122 

After-Bloom 123 

Asleep 124 

To J. G. W 125 




POEMS. 



MY TREASURES. 




O titled lands are mine, 
And yet, by right divine, 
A heritage I claim in all that lies 
Beneath the skies. 
Whose gold can buy the loveliness of morn, 

The glory of the day, 
The sunset's splendor, or the beauty born 
Of night's enchanting hour ? 

Or take away 
The soul's immortal dower? 



12 MV TREASURES. 

These are my happy fields, to childhood dear ; 

Mine the ancestral trees that stand 
Lofty and grand 

Through all the changing year ; 

Here are my woodlands dim 
Where the arbutus blossoms, meek and pale, 

The earliest flower to bring 
Its tribute to the Spring. 

Here my Arcadia fair, my Arno's vale ; 
Here low and sweet, 

Or wildly when the tempests beat. 
The ocean chants for me its solemn hymn ; 

Here at my feet, 
The clear, blue waters of my glorious river 

Flow on unchecked for ever ; 
While far away 

Beyond the winding bay, 
Distinct against the western skies, 

My cloud-kissed mountains rise. 



MV TREASURES. 

I seek no alien sky ; 

Here all my treasures lie, 
Far from the ceaseless tread of hurrying feet, 

The turbulence that fills 
The city's crowded street. 

Sweeter to me the sea's mysterious rote. 
The music of the wind-swept pine ; 

The melody divine 
That warbles in the wild-bird's silver throat, 

The freedom of my native woods and hills 

O wealth that knows no loss, 

O gold that hath no dross ; 
Why should I ask for more ? 

Why swell my countless store ? 
Enough for me to dwell, 

'Mid scenes I love so well ; 
And, whether life for me be long or brief. 

Here may I sink away, 



14 MV TREASURES. 

Into the sweet, eternal rest, 

As peacefully as on some autumn day, 
When winds are hushed, the ripened leaf 

Falls on Earth's tender breast. 




YESTERDA Y AND TO-DA Y. 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY. 




UT of the sunshine into the rain ; 
The way is steep and I walk alone ; 
I call aloud, but I call in vain, 
Through the darkness comes no answering tone. 
I have dreamed my golden dream, alas ! 
I have buried my hope with a bitter pain ; — 
Is it weak to weep when we sadly pass 
Out of the sunshine into the rain ? 

Into the sunshine, out of the rain ; 

The clouds furl off and the sky is blue : 

I walk in the beautiful paths again 

Where my song-birds built, and my roses grew. 



1 6 YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY. 

O the new-born glory round me shed ! 
O the voices that charm like a sweet refrain ! 
Thank God for the hand that my footsteps led 
Into the sunshine, out of the rain ! 




TO MY SOUL. 




TO MY SOUL. 

UEST from a holier world, 
Oh, tell me where the peaceful valleys lie ? 
Dove in the ark of life, when thou shalt fly, 
Where will thy wings be furled ? 



Where is thy native nest ? 
Where the green pastures that the blessed roam ? 
Impatient dweller in thy clay-built home. 

Where is thy heavenly rest ? 

On some immortal shore. 
Some realm away from earth and time, I know ; 
A land of bloom, where living waters flow. 

And grief comes nevermore. 



TO MY SOUL. 

Faith turns my eyes above ; 
Day fills with floods of h'ght the boundless skies ; 
Night watches calmly with her starry eyes 

All tremulous with love. 

And as entranced I gaze, 
Sweet music floats to me from distant lyres ; 
I see a temple, round whose golden spires 

Unearthly glory plays 1 

Beyond those azure deeps 
I fix thy home, — a mansion kept for thee 
Within the Father's house, whose noiseless key 

Kind Death, the warder, keeps ! 




A DREAM. 19 

A DREAM. 

[From the Persian.] 

SiVW in Hell, by scenes of horror awed, 
A being that a noxious creature gnawed. 
Speechless with fear, I gazed, but wondered 
much 
Why its right foot the monster did not touch. 
Then said the Angel that for ever waits 
Beside its wide and inward-opening gates, 
" This is the soul of him who lived on earth 
A life of indolence and little worth ; 
Many his sins, and few his works of love. 
But one day Allah, from his throne above, — 
By whom no kindly deed is e'er forgot, — 
Beheld him with this foot that suffers not, 
Cast to a ploughing ox a bunch of hay, 
And something of his torment takes away." 



20 A THOUGHT OF BURNS. 




A THOUGHT OF BURNS. 

ARGE was his heart, and deep and stron< 

The human love within it; 
As free and musical its song 

As wood-notes of the linnet. 



No touch -of art more fresh and clear 
The warbling tones could render ; 

No paean make his name more dear, 
His memory more tender. 

He sought not with impatient feet 
The path to glory's portal ; 

And yet his simple words and sweet 
Are fame-lit and immortal. 



A THOUGHT OF BC/RA^S. 21 

His " Highland Mary " still shall haunt 

The dells by burn and river, 
And " Bonnie Doon " as sweetly chant 

Love's melody for ever. 

The mountain daisy and the song 

His plough upturned together, 
Shall blossom in tfie heart as long 

As blooms his native heather. 



22 ZODIACAL LIGHT. 




ZODIACAL LIGHT. 

FTER the twilight dies, 

In the distance vague and dim, 
While Hesperus still like a jewel lies 
On the dark horizon's rim. 
There is born a strange and haunting light, — 
Is it a ghost at the gates of night ? 

Or, seen as it glimmers afar 

With a soft and mystical ray, 
While over the sea the Morning-star 

Lingers to kiss the Day, 
Is it the smile of Aurora, who waits 
For the Dawn, with her steeds, at the rosy gates ? 



TO H. MCE. K. 23 




< TO H. MCE. K. 

FAR in Memory's land I roamed to-day, 

Through fields that into silence stretched 
away ; 
And lingered where, beneath a sky of blue, • 
My flowers of Friendship grew. 

Ah, some had faded with the fading years ; 
And some were fresh with dew that seemed like tears ; 
And many had the warm, resplendent glow 
Of summers long ago. 

Some were as pale and scentless as the lily 
That blooms beside my window, when the chilly 
Wind of November at the casement blows ; — 
And one was like a rose ! 



24 TO H. MCE, K. 

It was the flower you gave in life's glad spring ; 
As sweet as then its fragrant blossoming ; 
Still in its loveliness to bloom, I said, 
Though all the rest were dead. 




THE MYSTERW 25 




THE MYSTERY. 

SxWV a wonderful light — 
Watching the midnight sky — 
Leap suddenly into the voiceless dark, 
And as suddenly die. 



Was it a golden lance 

Into the silence hurled 
By the Spirit of Air ? A new-born star, 

Or the wreck of a world ? 



26 A'EIV ENGLAND. 




NEW ENGLAND. 



iHx\T though they boast of fairer lands, 
"' Give me New England's hallowed soil, 
The fearless hearts, the swarthy hands 
Stamped with the heraldry of toil. 



I love her valleys broad and fair, 

The pathless wood, the gleaming lake, 

The bold and rocky bastions, where 
The billows of the ocean break ; 

The grandeur of each mountain peak 
That lifts to heaven its granite form, 

The craggy cliffs where eagles shriek, 
Amid the thunder and the storm. 



JVEIV ENGLAND. 



27 



And dear to me each noble deed 
Wrought by the iron wills of yore, — 

The Pilgrim hands that sowed the seed 
Of freedom on her sterile shore. 




28 FOUND DEAD. 



FOUND DEAD. 



jOUND dead ! dead and alone ! 
J^^^ There was nobody near, nobody near 

When the Outcast died on his pillow of stone 
No mother, no brother, no sister dear. 
Not a friendly voice to soothe or cheer. 
Not a watching eye or a pitying tear, — 
Oh, the city slept when he died alone 
In the roofless street, on a pillow of stone. 

Many a weary day went by. 

While wretched and worn he begged for bread. 
Tired of life, and longing to lie 

Peacefully down with the silent dead j 



FOUND DEAD. 29 

Hunger and cold, and scorn and pain, 
Had wasted his form and seared his brain, 
Till at last on a bed of frozen ground, 
With a pillow of stone, was the Outcast found. 

Found dead ! dead and alone, 

On a pillow of stone in the roofless street ; 
Nobody heard his last faint moan. 

Or knew when his sad heart ceased to beat ; 
No mourner lingered with tears or sighs, 
But the stars looked down with pitying eyes, 
And the chill winds passed with a wailing sound 
O'er the lonely spot where his form was found. 

Found dead ! yet not alone ; 

There was somebody near, — somebody near 
To claim the wanderer as his own, 

And find a home for the homeless here j 



30 FOUND DEAD. 

One, when every human door 
Is closed to his children, scorned and poor, 
Who opens the heavenly portal wide j 
Ah, God was near when the Outcast died. 



^ 




EDITH. 3 1 



EDITH. 




OU came to our hearts, little child, 
When the sere leaves were falling ; 

And the skies gave no welcome to thee, 
For the tempest was bitter and wild, 

And we heard 'mid the tumult loud. 
And the roar of the sullen cloud, 
Like a Voice in its helplessness calling, 
The, storm-driven sea. 

Watch, Angel of Peace, by the bed 
Where our darling reposes, — 

For she came on the saddest of morns, 
When the bloom of the Summer was dead, 

And the winds and the waves were at strife. 
Guide her feet in the pathway of Life, 
And spare, while you give her the roses, 
The pain of the thorns. 



32 



Air NATIVE RIVER. 



MY NATIVE RIVER. 






IKE an azure vein from the heart of the main, 
Pulsing with joy for ever, 
By verdurous Isles, with dimpled smiles, 
Floweth my native river. 



Singing a song as it flows along. 
Hushed by the Ice-king never; 

For he strives in vain to clasp a chain 
O'er thy fetterless heart, brave riv^er ! 



Singing to me as full and free 

As it sang to the dusky daughters, 

When the light canoe like a sea-bird flew 
Over its peaceful w^aters ; 



MY NATIVE RIVER. 33 

Or when by the shore of Sagamore 
They joined in their mystic dances; 

Where the lover's vow is whispered now, 
By the Hght of maiden glances. 

Oh, when the dart shall strike my heart. 
Speeding from Death's full quiver, 

May I close my eyes where smiling skies 
Bend o'er my native river. 






34 



JOE, 



JOE. 




LL clay long with a vacant stare, 
Alone in the chilling Autumn air, 
With naked feet he wanders slow 
Over the city, — the idiot Joe 1 



I often marvel why he was born, 
A child of humanity thus forlorn. 
Unloved, unnoticed by all below ; 
A cheerless thing is the life of Joe ! 



Beauty can throw no spell o'er him ; 
His inner vision is weak and dim ; 
And Nature in all her varied show 
Weareth no charm for the eyes of Joe. 



JOE. 35 

Earth may wake at the kiss of Spring, 
Flowers may blossom and birds may sing ; 
With joy the crystal streams may flow ; 
They never make glad the heart of Joe. 

His vague and wandering thoughts enfold 
No dreams of glory, no schemes for gold ; 
He knows not the blight of hopes, yet, oh, 
A blighted thing is the life of Joe ! 

Who would not suffer the ills of life. 
Its numberless wrongs, its sin and strife, 
And willingly bear its weight of woe, 
Rather than be the idiot Joe ? 

I think of him in the silent night. 
When every star seems a beacon light. 
To guide us, wanderers here below, 
To the better land, — the home of Joe. 



36 



JOE. 



For He who hears when the ravens call. 
And watches even the sparrow's fall, — 
He, in his measureless love, I know. 
Will kindly care for the soul of Joe. 




THE WRECK. 



n 



THE WRECK. 




HE Ocean sang to my heart last night, 
When I folded my hands in rest, 

A tune as sweet as a mother sings 
To the child ujDon her breast. 



But to-day it wails like a funeral dirge 
As they tell, in the quiet town. 

How the English ship in sight of land 
With a hundred souls went down. 




P^ 



38 



THE NECROPOLIS. 



THE NECROPOLIS. 




HOUGH the sexton, grim and old, 
Turns the mould, 
Damp and cold, 
< In the churchyard, for the bed 
Of the still and holy dead ; 

Though we see the green turf prest 

On each Breast 

Full of rest. 
Full of quiet, sweet and deep, 
Yet not there our loved ones sleep. 

Oh, the graves where they are laid 

Sexton's spade 

Never made ! 
Nor do sculptured tablets tell 
That within the heart they dwell ; 



THE NECROPOLIS, 39 

Where the winter winds, we know, 

Cannot blow, 

And the snow 
Never hides the flowers that grow, 
Fadeless, from the dust below. 




40 



THE TWO WORLDS. 



THE TWO WORLDS. 




O many fond ties hold us here, 
So much hath Earth to give, 

We often say, with thankful hearts, 
'"Tis sweet to live." 



So many are the treasures lost, 

Heaven only can restore, 
We sometimes think 't were better far 

To live no more. 



Two lives are ours; — the earthly way 
Is with the heavenly blent ; — 

Between two worlds that share our love, 
Our days are spent ; 



THE TWO WORLDS. 



41 



Scarce caring, when Sleep's Angel comes 

Our tired eyes to kiss, 
If our awakening morning be 

In that or this. 




42 



THE MISSING SHIPS. 




THE MISSING SHIPS. 

THOU ever restless sea, 
" God's half-uttered mystery," 
Where are all the ships that sailed so gal- 
lantly away? 
Tell us, will they never more 
Furl their wings and come to shore ? 
Eyes still watch and fond hearts wait ; precious freight 
had they. 



Precious freight! ay, wealth untold. 

More than merchandise or gold, 
Did the stately vessels bear o'er the heaving main ; 

Human souls are dearer far 

Than all earthly treasures are, 
And for them we weep and pray ; must it be in vain ? 



THE MISSING SHIPS. 43 

In the silence of the night, 

Did they, with a wild affright, 
Wake to hear the cry of Fire ! echo to the stars ? 

While the cruel, snake-like flame, 

Creeping, coiling, hissing came 
O'er the deck, and up the mast, and out along the 



As the doomed ship swayed and tossed 

Like a mighty holocaust, 
Did they with despairing cries leap into the waves ? 

Or with folded hands, and eyes 

Lifted to the peaceful skies. 
Calmly go with prayerful hearts to their nameless 
graves ? 

Did the black wings of the blast 
Poise and hover o'er the mast, 
Till at last in wrath they swept o'er the crowded deck ? 



44 THE MISSING SHIPS. 

Leaving not a soul to tell 
How the long and awful swell 
Of the ocean's troubled breast bore a dismal wreck ; — 

How amid the thunder's crash, 

And the lightning's lurid flash 
(Autograph the Storm-king writes on his scroll of 
clouds), 

High above the deafening strife 

Piteous cries were heard for life. 
Fear-struck human beings seen clinging to the shrouds ! 

Or with shattered hulk and sail, 

Riding out the stormy gale, 
Slowly did the brave ship sink deeper day and night ? 

Drifting, drifting wearily 

O'er the wide and trackless sea, 
Loved ones starving, dying there with no sail in sight. 



THE MISSING SHIPS. 45 

Or when winds and waves were hushed, 

While each cheek with joy was flushed, 
As they glided gently on, hope in every breast, 

With a sudden leap and shock, 

Did they strike some hidden rock. 
And go down, for ever down to their dreamless rest ? 

Did the strange and spectral fleet 

Of the icebergs round them meet, 
Pressing closer till they sank crashing to the deep ? 

Do these crystal mountains loom. 

Monuments of that vast tomb, 
In the ocean's quiet depths where so many sleep ? 

O thou ever-surging sea, 
Vainly do we question thee ; 
Thy blue waves no answer bring as they kiss the 
strand ; 



46 THE MISSING SHIPS. 

But we know each coral grave, 
Far beneath the rolling wave, 
Shall at last give up its dead, touched by God's own 
hand. 




A HYMN OF CONFESSION. 47 



A HYMN OF CONFESSION. 

** But, Lord, the violet, bending low, 
Seems better moved to praise ; 
From us, what scanty blessings flow. 
How voiceless close our days ! " 

James T. Fields. 

HE homeless winds that wander o'er the land j 
The deep-voiced thunder speaking words of 
fire ; 

The waves that break in sunshine on the strand, 
Or smite with storm-paled hands their rocky lyre ; 

The stars that blossom in the fields of night ; 

The buds that burst in beauty from the sod ; 
The birds that dip their wings in rainbow light, — 

Are notes in Nature's symphony to God ! 




40 A HYMN OF CONFESSION. 

But as Creations anthem onward rolls, 

From age to age, in grandeur still the same, 

We set the seal of Silence on our souls. 
And sing no praises to His holy name. 

Our eyes are dazzled by the glare of Life ; 

We cannot see the sapphire deeps above ; 
Our ears are deafened by its ceaseless strife ; 

We cannot hear the angels' songs of love. 

Dust gathers on our mantles hour by hour ; 

We trail our robes in low and sensual things ; 
We yield our heart-wealth to the Tempter's power, 

And stain the whiteness of the spirit's wings. 

We fling the priceless jDcarl of Faith away. 

And count as treasure Earth's corroding dross ; 

We bow to idols formed of fragile clay. 

But twine few garlands for the Saviour's cross. 



EBB AND FLOW. 49 




EBB AND FLOW. 

WANDERED alone beside the stream ; 

The tide was out and the sands were bare ; 
The tremulous tone of the sea-bird's scream 

Like a winged arrow pierced the air. 



I roamed till the sun in the west was low, 
And the robes of twilight trailed in the sea ; 

The waves pulsed in with a rhythmical flow, 
And a song from the woodland came to me. 

All day I roam by the stream of Song ; 

The tide is out, and my life is bare. 
While shadows of evil round me throng. 

And drearily croaks the bird of Care. 



50 EBB AND FLOW. 

But at night the waves roll back again, 

And flow in music over my heart, 
Till the dusky phantoms of grief and pain 

From the charmed shores of my brain depart. 



THE DEAD. 




THE DEAD. 

CANNOT tell you if the dead, 
That loved us fondly when on earth, 
Walk by our side, sit at our hearth, 
By ties of old affection led ; 



Or, looking earnestly within, 
Know all our joys, hear all our sighs. 
And watch us with their holy eyes 

Whene'er we tread the paths of sin ; 

Or if with mystic lore and sign, 
They speak to us, or press our hand. 
And strive to make us understand 

The nearness of their forms divine. 



52 THE DEAD. 

But this I know, — in many dreams 
They come to us from reahns afar, 
And leave the golden gates ajar, 

Through which immortal glory streams. 



THE CHIMES. 53 




THE CHIMES. 

GES since, men heard the ringing 
Of the song-bells gently swinging 
In the starry domes of thought ; 
Long they listened to the chimes 
That the poet's golden rhymes 
Out of sweetest fancies wrought. 

Still the tuneful bells are pealing, 
Waking every holy feeling; 

Still they vibrate in the past ; 
And the poet of to-day 
Hears the music far away, 

Clearer than a clarion's blast ! 



54 ^^ INVOCATION. 



AN INVOCATION. 




ESTLESS phantoms haunt my brain ! 
Come and ease my nameless pain, 
Sleep — sweet sleep. 
I would own thy gentle power ; 
It is midnight's holy hour ; 
Wave thy charmed wand over me, 
Let thy mantle cover me, 
Sleep — sweet sleep ! 

Clasp me in thy dusky arms, 
Soothe me with thy mystic balms, 

Sleep — sweet sleep. 
Give me thy Lethean wine, 
Press thy dewy lips to mine. 
Fold my hands and close my eyes, 
Bring me dreams of Paradise, 

Sleep — sweet sleep. 



AN INVOCATION. 



55 



Linger with me till the morn, 
Leave me not till day is born, 

Sleep — sweet sleep ; 
Then shall gates of rosy light 
Open for thy silent flight. 
Ah ! some time thou'lt come, I know, 
To my heart, and never go, 

Sleep — sweet sleep ! 




$6 TO A BIGOT. 




TO A BIGOT. 

OU strove in vain, with cunning words, 
And subtle arguments, to gain 

A convert to your darling creed ; 
Then mocked me with your cold disdain. 



Ah, well — sip from your shallow fount ; 

The heart hath depths you may not know ; 
And your philosophy would fail, 

Did you but judge of Nature so. 

You do not scorn the mountain stream 
Because it floweth wild and free 

In hidden channels of its own, 

And finds at last its home, the sea. 



TO A BIGOT. 57 

You do not crush the wayside flower 

Because it wears a different hue 
From that which decks your garden-walks, 

And only breathes its sweets for you. 

You do not wound the forest bird 

Because your caged canary sings 
A sweeter song — you vainly think — 

Give me the freedom of my wings. 

Then if I soar beyond your flights, 

Or if I keep my lowly nest, 
What matter, since I am content 

To serve my God as seemeth best ? 




58 FARRAGUT. 



FARRAGUT. 



^^fflRAND in his dreamless sleep our Admiral lies, 
•^vS^ The brave heart still, so fondly loved and 
blest; 
The light gone forth from those prophetic eyes, 
The guiding hand at rest. 



His star in glory set — his great work done ; — 
Muffle the drum, and toll the solemn bell ; 

And let the deep voice of the minute-gun 
A people's sorrow tell. 

A friend who failed not in the darkest hour; 

A valiant soul who at his Country's call 
Battled with Treason born of hate and power, 

And triumphed over all. 



FARRAGUT. 59 

One noble life the less for Heaven to take ; 

One hero more passed from this land of ours ; — 
Lay fairest garlands on his bier, and make 

Death beautiful with flowers. 

A Nation's heart shall be his funeral urn, 

While time shall add new lustre to his fame ; 

And Freedom's fires with holier light shall burn, 
Where'er is breathed his name. 




6o 



MEMORIAL HYMN. 



MEMORIAL HYMN. 




O tread of armed men ; 
No lightning-flash, and then 
The thunder's roar ! 
No Hfe-blood ebbing fast ; 
No bugle's rallying blast ; 
The wild, sad days are past ; 
Peace smiles once more. 



Above our martyrs' graves, 
Unharmed the banner waves, 

Fair as of yore ; — 
O liberty's glad sign ! 
Rayed with a light divine, 
In starry splendor shine 

For evermore. 



MEMORIAL HYMN, 6 1 



What fields they lost or won ; 
What daring deeds were done, 

Let Valor tell. 
True Freedom to secure, 
For Justice firm and sure. 
For Right that shall endure, 

Our heroes fell. 



By each green mound to-day. 
Your grateful homage pay, 

O Land of ours ! 
There, loyal hearts and true. 
Your sacred vows renew 
In Freedom's name, and strew 

The sweet Spring flowers. 

Theirs is the wreath of Fame ; 
The victors' storied name 
Time cannot stain ; 



62 MEMORIAL HYMN. 

Ours is the nobler Land ; 
The Nation strong and grand, 
The Union's broken band 
Made whole again. 

Thou Giver of all good, 
Keep us one brotherhood 

From North to South ! 
Dear Lord ! in days to come 
Hushed be the battle-drum ; 
Sheathed be the sword, and dumb 

The cannon's mouth. 




DEDICATION ODE. 6^ 



1^^ 



DEDICATION ODE. 

FATHER, as in days of old, 

When men knew not thy wondrous love, 
And bowed to gods of wood and gold, 
Thou rulest on thy throne above ; 
Thou art the same unchanging Friend, 
And thy almighty arms defend. 



Thy hand still guides each rolling world. 
And stays the tempest's awful wrath, 

And on the bannered clouds unfurled 
Marks out the lightning's lurid path ; 

It weighs the mountains, holds the sea, 

And stretches through Infinity. 



64 DEDICATION ODE. 

Ah, little human hands can do 

When measured by the matchless power 

That raised the hills, and arched the blue 
Wide heavens that bless us every hour ; 

That made our frames, sustains our lives. 

And through all earthly change survives. 

Yet, Lord, we offer to thee now 

This temple built on hallowed ground ; 

Oh, bless its walls ! for while we bow. 
The sainted dead seem lingering round, 

As if with us they hither came. 

To own this tribute to thy name. 




^ 



THE LENGTHENING DAY. 65 




THE LENGTHENING DAY. 

HE days are growing longer now ; 
On yonder elm-tree's topmost bough, 
On the gilded cross that crowns the spire, 
More slowly burns the sunset's fire ; 

And at my window, day by day, 
I later wait to see the ray 
Of the evening star in glory shine 
Above yon dim and lonely pine. 



e^^^^ 



66 THE FIRST ROBIN. 




THE FIRST ROBIN. 

ROBIN, tell it far and wide 
On many a leafless spray, 

Last night the sullen Winter died, 
And Spring was born to-day! 



Pour forth the gladness of thy breast 

In music clear and strong. 
And fill again each empty nest 

With echoes of thy song. 

Tell that the prisoned woodland stream 

Its fetter soon will break ; 
And from its long and frozen dream 

The violet awake. 



THE FIRST ROBIN. 6/ 

Tell that the zephyrs soft and warm 

Will kiss the budding trees, 
The maple's garnet blossoms swarm 

Like myriads of bees, 

By moss-clad walls the columbine 

Uplift its scarlet bloom, 
By grassy paths the eglantine 

Exhale its sweet perfume. 

O robin, tell it in thy song 

Of joy, this sunny morn. 
And bid the hearts that waited long 

Rejoice, for Spring is born ! 



68 UNDER THE LEAVES. 




UNDER THE LEAVES. 

FT have I walked these woodland paths 
In sadness, not foreknowing 
That underneath the withered leaves 
The flowers of spring were growing. 



To-day the winds have swept away 
Those wrecks of autumn's splendor ; 

And here the sweet Arbutus-flowers 
Are springing fresh and tender. 

O prophet flowers ! with lips of bloom 
Surpassing, in their beauty, 

The pearly tints of ocean shells, — 
Ye teach me faith and duty. 



UNDER THE LEAVES. 69 

Walk life's dark ways, ye seem to say, 

In love and hope, foreknowing 
That, where man sees but withered leaves, 

God sees the fair flowers growing. 




70 JUNE. 




JUNE. 

GAIN the Summer's golden prime 
The wealth of June discloses ; 
Heaven wears its fairest robe of blue, 
And Earth its crown of roses. 

The wild bird sings its sweetest tune, 
The softest airs are blowing ; 

The very heart of Nature seems 
With gladness overflowing. 

Dear Lord, shall human lips be mute. 
No voice with Nature blending ? 

No breath of prayer or hymn of praise 
From thankful hearts ascending ? 



JUNE. yi 

Oh, then in vain the Summer's prime 

The wealth of June discloses ; 
And Heaven its robe of glory wears, 

And Earth its crown of roses ! 






72 



THE HUMMING-BIRD. 



THE HUMMING-BIRD. 



^S±^^^ay6 



JEWEL on the bosom of the air, 

More exquisite than any queen may wear; 
With tremulous beauty caught from sunset 

skies, 
And dropped one summer morn from Paradise. 




THE SUMMER SHOWER. 73 




THE SUMMER SHOWER. 

WHITE haze glimmered on the hills, 
The vales were parched and dry, 

And glaringly the burning sun 
Coursed in the summer sky. 



The cattle, in the distant woods, 
Sought shelter from its beams, 

Or, motionless and patient stood, 
Knee-deep, amid the streams. 

The house-dog lay with panting breath 
Close where the elm-trees grew ; 

The bluebird and the oriole 
To shady coverts flew. 



74 THE SUMMER SHOWER. 

Day after day the thirsty earth 
Looked up to heaven for rain ; 

The gardens held their flower-cups, 
The fields their lips of grain. 

With doubting hearts, men, murmuring, said, 
" Our toils have been in vain ; 

We sowed in spring, but shall not reap 
When autumn comes again." 

But while they spoke, within the west, 

At sunset's glowing hour, 
God's voice proclaimed in thunder tones 

The coming of the shower ! 

The deepening shadows slowly crept " 
O'er mountain and o'er plain. 

Until in cool and copious floods 
Came down the blessed rain. 



THE SUMMER SHOWER. 75 

All nature smiled j and when at last 

The cloudy wings were furled, 
The evening star shone regally 

Above a thankful world. 

O love of Heaven ! O fear of man ! 

O faith so cold and dim ! 
When shall we own the ways of God, 

And learn to trust in him ? 




-jd ^ FIREFLIES. 




FIREFLIES. 

OME forth, beloved, to the night ! 

What though no stars are in the skies 
Enough for me the loving light 

That lives within 3^our gentle eyes. 



We '11 sit together in the dark. 

Beside the meadows cool and damp. 

And watch the fireflies by the spark 
That glimmers from each tiny lamp. 

What happy, happy lives they pass ! 

What elfin dances by its ray ! 
What pleasures in the dewy grass. 

That vanish with the light of day ! 



FIREFLIES. 77 

They haunt this fragrant summer air, 
While every thing around us seems 

To rest beneath the wings of prayer, 
And breathe the atmosphere of dreams. 

Come forth ! peace falls upon my breast, 

Like dews descending to the sod ; 
As if the arms of Nature prest 

Me closer to the heart of God. 




7^ AUTUMA\ 



AUTUMN. 




HE world iDuts on its robes of glory now; 

The V'Cry flowers are tinged with deeper 
dyes ; 
The waves are bluer, and the angels pitch 

Their shining tents along the sunset skies. 



The distant hills are crowned with purple mist : 
The days are mellow, and the long, calm nights, 

To wondering eyes, like weird magicians show 
The shifting splendors of the Northern Lights. 

The generous Earth spreads out her fruitful stores. 
And all the fields are thick with ripened sheaves ; 

While in the woods, at Autumn's rustling step, 

The maples blush through all their trembling leaves. 



IN THE WOODS. 79 




IN THE WOODS. 

WALKED alone in depths of autumn woods ; 

The ruthless winds had left the maple bare ; 
The fern was withered, and the sweetbrier's 
breath 

No longer gave its fragrance to the air. 



The barberry strung its coral beads no more ; 

The thistle-down on gauzy wings had flown ; 
And myriad leaves, on which the Summer wrote 

Her blushing farewells, at my feet were strown. 

A loneliness pervaded every spot ; 

A gloom of which my musing soul partook ; 
All Nature mourns, I said ; November wild 

Hath torn the fairest pages from her book. 



80 IN THE WOODS. 

But suddenly a wild bird overhead 

Poured forth a note so strangely clear and sweet, 
It seemed to bring me back the skies of May, 

And wake the sleeping violets at my feet. 

Then long I pondered o'er the poet's words, 
" The loss of beauty is not always loss," 

Till like the voice of love they soothed my pain. 
And gave me strength to bear again my cross. 

O murmuring heart ! thy pleasures may decay. 

Thy faith grow cold, thy golden dreams take wing ; 

Still in the realm of faded youth and joy, 

Heaven kindly leaves some bird of hope to sing. 



THE WINTER RAIN. 8 1 



?^(2 




THE WINTER RAIN. 

WEARIED of the stormy hours, 
And shaped my song to murmuring words; 
I longed to hear the song of birds 
And watch the bloom of woodland flowers. 



O waiting heart, no more complain ; 

The shadows fly, the morning breaks; 

And, with a touch of light, God makes 
A glory of the winter rain ! 

Where icy splendors flash and gleam 
In forest depths, alone I stand : 
I seem to dwell in fairy-land, 

And, wondering, gaze as in a dream. 
6 



82 THE WINTER RAIN. 

Here is the ruby's sunset dye, 

The opal's blush, the diamond's flame ; 
And jewels rare of every name, 

Thick as the stars in midnight sky. 

No kingly crown is half so fair 

As that which decks the pine-tree's crest ; 

No gems e'er shone on Beauty's breast 
Like those the oak and maple wear. 

The common path — in childhood known — 
Transfigured now before me lies, — 
A way that leads to Paradise ; 

An aisle with shattered rainbows strown ! 



FROST-WORK. 83 




FROST-WORK. 

HEY are the ghosts of flowers, 
The blossoms of fairer hours, 

I see on the window-pane ! 
They died in woodland and heather, 
But lo ! in this wintry weather, 

Their petals unfold again. 



O rare and wonderful flowers 

That bloom in these crystal bowers ! 

How their splendors glance and gleam ! 
How they glow where the silver sedge 
Fringes the rivulet's edge, 

And flush in the morning's beam 1 



84 FROST-WORK. 

Arbutus and Eglantine; 
The bell of the Columbine, 

Poised on its stately stem ; 
Aster and Fleur-de-lis ; 
Wind-kissed Anemone, 

And the Star of Bethlehem ! 

These, and a numberless train, 
I trace on the frosty pane, — 

Are they pictures of the brain ? 
Ah, no ! they are exquisite flowers, 
The phantoms of sunnier hours, 

That blossom in beauty again. 




THE SKATERS. 85 



THE SKATERS. 

HOUGH winter winds are whistling loud, 
And skies are cold and gray, 
Though earth lies mute beneath her shroud. 
The skaters! what care they? 
A happy throng. 
With mirth and song, 
O'er fields of ice they swiftly glide, 
As sea-birds sail above the tide. 

Oh, well they know the winter hours 

Fly faster as they sing, — 
That sooner come the birds and flowers 

And loveliness of Spring ; 



86 THE SKATERS. 

So, night or day, 

Away ! away ! 
O'er crystal plains, with mirth and song, 
They speed, they speed like the wind along ! 

The heated room, the crowded hall. 

Where pride and fashion meet. 
While waves of music rise and fall 
In time to dancing feet, — 
They seek not these ; 
For them the breeze, 
And the gleaming floor o'er which they go 
Like arrows shot from the hunter's bow. 

Then loud the stormy winds may blow. 

And skies be cold and gray ; 
Then earth may wear its robe of snow, — 

They laugh the hours away ! 



THE SKATERS. 



87 



With mirth and song, 

A merry throng, 
O'er fields of ice they swiftly glide, 
As sea-birds sail above the tide. 




ss 



A PASSING THOUGHT. 



A PASSING THOUGHT. 




HE violets are dead, 
And faded is the rose ; 
The autumn leaves are shed ^ 

High drift the winter snows, 

And no flower blows. 

Oh, why complain, sad soul ? 
Life may be verdure-crowned, 
Howe'er the seasons roll ; 
And Love's sweet flower be found 
The whole year round. 




HYACINTHS. 89 




HYACINTHS. 

HERE is frost on the window-pane ; 
There 's a mantle of snow, Hke a shroud 
On the cold and lifeless plain ; 

The throat of the flying cloud 

Pipes shrill through the branches bare ; — 

But a dream of the Summer comes to me, 

When I breathe the odor rare 

That floats through the heated room 

From the hyacinth's clustered bloom. 

Last night I saw the full-orbed moon. 

With a radiance deep and tender, 

Between the elm-tree's dewy leaves 

Filter its liquid splendor. 

To-day there are birds on every tree ; 



90 HYACINTHS. 

Swallows twitter about the eaves ; 
The emerald fields with clover flush ; 
The lilies pale and the roses blush, 
Fresh from the heart of June. 
White as the foam of the sea; 
Blue as its countless waves ; 
Purple as delicate mosses that hide 
In its dim, unfathomed caves 
Where the Spirit of Silence dwells ; 
Red as the leaf of the dulse that sways 
In the swift and dimpling tide, 
Like the folds of a pennon fair 
In the eddying tides of air ; 
Pink as the whispering lips of its shells, - 
Are the magical flowers that bring to me 
The warmth of the vanished days. 



THE BIRTH OF LIGHT 9 1 




THE BIRTH OF LIGHT. 

HE earth was without form and void; the deep 
Wore on its face a pall of death-like gloom. 
A secret spark kindled by Breath Divine, 

Hid in the bosom of primeval dark, 

I, in unconscious consciousness, did wait 

The Word omnipotent to give me birth. 

Upon the waters moved the Spirit of God : 

"Let there be light," proclaimed the Almighty voice. 

And forth I sprang, the glad, immortal Day ; 

The child of God and of mysterious Night. 

Sv/ift as I sprang, the pall of gloom was rent, 
And farthest space grew radiant with amaze, 
And the new world afloat in splendor lay. 
O'er me anon Heaven's azure dome was arched ; 



92 THE BIRTH OF LIGHT. 

The waters were divided ; and the Earth, 
Obedient to the Voice commanding all, 
Put on a robe of verdure and of bloom. 
Still grew Creation's miracle ; the sea 
Swelled wave on wave and sang exultingly 
Melodious anthems to the listening shores, 
While in its hidden, never-sounded depth 
The pulse of life began to leap and throb. 
Then living creatures swarmed the fruitful land 
And last of all (the best and crowning act) 
From out the dust of earth God fashioned Man, 
And in his nostrils breathed the breath of life, 
And he became a living soul, and bore 
Within the image of the Face Divine. 
For him, this kingly creature, was I born ; 
Each step to show, each spot illuminate, 
And ever to nourish, quicken, and sustain 
His being from my glowing heart, the Sun. 
And yet he changes, — he, creation's lord ; 



THE BIRTH OF LIGHT. 93 

And I change not, — I, the immortal Day ! 
King of the starry hosts. 

The muffled tread 
Of centuries in their solemn march awakes 
In me no saddening thoughts of age or death ; 
Earth's thronging shades my lustre cannot dim ; 
Though I have seen proud empires rise and fall ; 
Though cities, great in their magnificence, 
Have sunk in earth and vanished from my gaze, 
And nought but a'umbling ruins mark their graves ; 
Though Time's worn trophies thick around me lie. 
Its blight falls not on me ; I ever wear 
The same unchanging flush of morning bloom. 

I am impartial as the air or dew ; 
My blessing falls on all ; the rich man's gold 
Buys not my favoring smile ; I have no frown 
For poverty ; no kindlier falls my glance 
On palace walls than on the beggar's hut. 



94 THE BIRTH OF LIGHT. 

I tread where mortal footstep never dares ; 

I kiss the mountain-tops, whose hoary heads 

For ever wear a veil of clouds ; I creep 

With shining feet down deep ravines, and chase 

The brooding shadows into viewless air. 

But ah ! the grave — my glances reach not there ; 

Though with my sunbeam fingers I may strew 

Its sod above with flowers, I shed no bloom 

Within ; God's eye alone can pierce its depths. 

And thou, O man ! through Him alone mayst hope 

To read its silent, awful mvsteries. 




BE A UTY. 



95 



BEAUTY.i 




■^^^T^uHl SING of Beauty ! not of that which lies 

Before me now, that gleams in woman's eyes 
And blushes on her cheek, — that were a 
theme 
To fill the measure of a poet's dream ! 
Not of the matchless tints that painters give, 
The pictures of old masters, that yet live, 
Kept sacred from the wrecks and spoils of Time ; 
Claude's perfect sunsets, Raphael's shapes sublime, 
Cprreggio's landscapes, and madonnas fair. 
With soul-entrancing eyes and shining hair ; 
Not of the cold, calm loveliness that lies 
In marble forms, that stand before our eyes 
The white ideals of the sculptor's brain ; 

^ Extracts from a poem delivered before the United Literary Societies 
at Bowdoin College. 



96 BE A UTY. 

Not of the triumphs won in Art's domain, 

But of that beauty stamped with Heaven's own 

seal, 
That angels blessed, and day and night reveal, 
That like a living presence fills the skies. 
And everywhere around our pathway lies. 
When into darkness God stretched forth his hand, 
And out of chaos, at his high command. 
This lower world in perfect order stood, 
Arrayed in robes of light, and " all was good," 
With shouts of joy the heavenly arches rang, 
And all the morning stars together sang. 
Shall man not join the strain, immortal man. 
For whom He formed this fair and wondrous plan ? 
Shall Nature sing and he alone be mute, 
And show no nobler passion than the brute ? 

How many varied scenes this world displays 
To fill the heart with joy, the lips with praise ! 



BEA UTY. 97 

Go where we may and Beaut}^ follows too, 
With radiant smiles, and shapes for ever new. 
She haunts the spring beneath a fairy's guise. 
With unbound golden hair and azure eyes ; 
A wreath of violets in each dainty hand. 
And round her sunny brow an emerald band ; 
While all day long she strays o'er hill and glen, 
Through leafy bowers, amid the homes of men ; 
And when night falls, from out the echoing dells. 
The lilies ring for her their crystal bells. 
And in the forest's depths she dreams till morn, 
Waked by the music of the wild-bee's horn.. 

She reigns a queen in Summer ; on a throne 
Of amethyst, with full-blown roses strown 
About her feet, she sits in regal state ; 
Millions of tiny beings on her wait. 
With shining wings, and ever to her praise 
With happy hearts sing their melodious lays. 



98 BE A UTV. 

She comes to Autumn, an enchantress rare, 

With traiHng robes of gold ; and, as in air 

She waves her crimson wand, the rijDcned sheaves 

Gather with rustling banners ; on the leaves 

A rain of glory falls ; and in the skies 

Cloud pictures rise at sunset, tinged with dyes 

That Heaven alone displays to mortal eyes : 

Calm lakes of amber gemmed with purple isles ; 

Gold-crested mountains, throuo-h whose lon^ defiles 

We seem to see the angels come and go 

With harps of light, and white wings waving slow. 

She roams an artist o'er the winter world. 

Whose pencil fair, with frozen dews impearled, 

Paints fairy pictures on the window-panes; 

Of time-worn castles, groves, and towering fanes ; 

Of grottoes overarched by blossoming trees, 

And stately ships becalmed in silver seas ; 

Of chasms deep, by cobweb bridges spanned, 

.That lead to mountains bright with pearly sand, 



BE A UTY. 99 

Whose crystal peaks, touched by the morning sun, 
In silence fall, and vanish one by one. 

Climb earth's most holy fanes, the mountain jDcaks, 

And there her siren voice sublimely speaks ; 

Stand on some rocky strand that ocean laves, 

And watch the long procession of the waves. 

As one by one along their sapphire way, 

With measured step they come with wreaths of spray ; 

Or mark the Storm-king as with deafening roar 

He hunts the billows thundering to the shore ! 

Or go in fancy to the mystic deeps 

That plummet never reached, where Silence keeps 

Eternal watch ; roam through the fairy bowers 

Festooned with mosses, — those perennial flowers 

That blossom in the peaceful gardens there, 

And Naiads twine amid their flowing hair, — 

Or stoop and take the wreathed shell that lies 

Close at thy feet; behold its splendid dyes, 



100 BEAUTY. 

That Heaven's own bow of light almost eclipse ; 

List to the whisperings of its parted lips, 

As if some happy spirit of the sea 

Filled all its pearly halls with melody, — 

And tell me, did not Beauty walk with thee ? 

Let Dryads lead thee through the shrouded wood, 

Beside their sylvan haunts, where Solitude 

Sits crowned with wild-flowers ; tread the long, hushed 

aisles, 
Across whose emerald floors the sunlight smiles 
Like God's own blessing ; and if there thy breast, 
That vainly sighed for some sweet dream of rest. 
Forgets its care, and shadows leave thy brain, 
Know that the hand of Beauty soothed thy pain. 

Leave the vast city with its noisy crowds, 
And watch the quiet glory of the clouds ; 
Golden at dawn_, pallid as ghosts at noon. 
Gorgeous at evening, drifting by the moon 



BEAUTY. lOI 

Like icebergs in a sea of misty light, 
Silent and calm, and piloted by Night. 
Go forth when Morning with its key of light 
Unlocks the dusky portals of the night. 
And watch the Day-king, throned in majesty, 
Trace out a shining joathw^ay o'er the sea, 
While startled shadows from the mountains flee. 
And radiant floods pour down upon the plain. 
And Earth looks up to bless his cheering reign. 

Or lift to Heaven, at night, thy w^ondering eyes. 

And read the starry language of the skies ; 

See Cassiop'ea in her regal chair. 

The golden trail of Berenice's Hair ; 

The Northern Crown, whose jewels far outshine 

All earthly gems, and gleam with light divine ; 

The Pleiades, and Lyra's shining strings ; 

The Silver Swan, the Dove with outspread wings ; 

The Twins, that tread their path with one desire, 



102 BEAUTY. 



And great Orion with his belt of fire ! 



Or turn from these and watch the Northern Lights 

With jewelled feet ascend the heavenly heights; 

While with fantastic shapes they haunt the brain, — 

A sk}' of amber streaked with silver rain ; 

A blaze of glory, Heaven's resplendent fires ; 

A temple gleaming with a thousand spires ; 

A sea of light that laves a shore of stars ; 

The gates of Heaven, swift-rolling, fiery cars ; 

A golden pulse, quick beating through the night ; 

Contending armies mailed in armor bright ; 

A gauzy curtain drawn by unseen hands, 

Night's gorgeous drapery looped with starry bands ; 

Vast, burning cities, that lie far away ; 

Blushes on Nature's face — pale ghosts of day ; 

A boundless prairie swept by phantom fire ; 

The vibrant strings of some gigantic lyre ; 

Emblazoned chariots ever skyward driven ; 

God writing in the open book of heaven ; 



BEAUTY. 103 

The flaming banner of the North unfurled, 
The mystery above a wondering world ! 

Far from the city's din a spot I knew, 
Where in its pride a stately elm-tree grew; 
I loved it well, and oft, when far away, 
Weary and restless with the toils of day, 
I thought of it ; I saw the children play 
Beneath its shade ; I heard their shouts of joy. 
And wished — vain w^ish ! — I w^as again a boy. 
It w^hispered to me of the woods and streams ; 
It rustled through the quiet of my dreams. 
Making the night Arcadia ; ever fair 
(Standing with giant arms outstretched in air) 
It seemed to me ; whether I watched the Spring 
Touch it with light and bloom, or Summer fling 
Her garlands dark and dewy o'er its form, 
That nobly braved the fury of the storm. 
Or Autumn tinge its leaves with amber dye, 



104 BEAUTY. 

Or Winter leave its branches bare and high, 
Pencilled like veins against the cold, gray sky, 
Or wreathed with snow, or hung with icy gems, 
Kissed by the sun, and fit for diadems. 



Oh, when I think how many close their eyes 
To all the beauty that around them lies, 
Dazzled by gold, misled by fashion's glare ; 
When I behold the pallid brows of care 
That ache in factory rooms from dawn till night, 
Shut out from every pleasant sound and sight ; 
And when I read with shame of women fair, 
In crowded cities, driven to despair, 
Who labor night and day, half paid, half fed. 
While little children cry to them for bread, — 
I do not wonder that the doors of sin 
Stand open wide, and thousands enter in ! 



BEAUTY. 105 

A sceptic once, for treason doomed to dwell 

Within the precincts of a gloomy cell. 

Wrote on his dungeon wall these words of scorn : 

" All things in nature of blind Chance were born." 

The changing seasons as they come and go 

W^ith varied pomp ; the ocean's ebb and flow ; 

The star-fires burning on the steeps of night, 

Unquenched by time ; the floods of golden light 

That flow in silence from the fount of day, 

Unfettered as the ages roll away. 

Baptizing earth and heaven, — in these he saw 

No ruling hand, no high and perfect law. 

But in the courtyard as he walked one day. 

To while the long and tedious hours away, 

A little plant before his careless sight. 

Lifting its tendrils to the air and light, 

Spoke to the captive's soul ; its fragile form 

He sheltered from the rude wind and the storm ; 

And as beneath the gentle rain and dew, 



I06 BE A Urv. 

In strength, and grace, and S3nnmetry it grew, 

Each leaf he counted on the mystic tree, 

Till it became to him Hope's rosary. 

And while he watched the swelling buds unfold 

Their fragrant leaves of purple tinged with gold, 

Within his heart, controlled by nobler powers, 

The buds of faith bloomed into perfect flowers ; 

Till with new light. Creation he could see, 

A faultless form, whose soul was Deity ; 

And Beauty's image, that once seemed to him 

A far-off shadow, cold, unreal, dim. 

Rose fair and luminous before his eyes. 

As if an angel came from paradise. 

He pressed its lips, he touched its peerless form. 

And like Pygmalion's statue, it was warm. 

While Beauty comes to every human heart, 
And lingers there, unwilling to depart. 
Too many own her not, nor heed her claim. 



BEAUTY. 107 

But blindly follow some ignoble aim. 
Only the noblest and the pure of earth 
Receive her as a child of heavenly birth, 
An angel sent from some diviner sphere, 
To walk before and smooth our pathway here. 
Think of that fearless soul, immortal Kane, 
The new Columbus of an arctic main ! 
How in that realm of everlasting snow, 
Amid the dangers of the treacherous floe, 
While Hunger's ghastly face through that long night 
• Stared with its haggard eyes, there blessed his sight 
A vision of the stars, that filled his breast 
With holy fear and dreams of endless rest. 
Think how he watched the wild flower lift its head 
In meek surprise from out its frozen bed, 
And felt that there, amid eternal ice, 
God told his presence by that fair device. 
Two guests from heaven sustained and cheered him 
there, 



I08 BE A UTY. 

The angel Beauty, and her sister, Prayer. 
O hero spirit ! thou didst seek no fame. 
Vet nations bow before thy sainted name; 
Thy mission here was filled, thy toils are o'er ; 
No sunless winter now, no barren shore. 
But light, and love, and beauty evermore ; 
For thou hast found at last that " open sea," 
The boundless waters of eternity. 

As without food the body must decay. 

So with the mind, — that, too, must pine away. 

Deprived of sustenance it ever craves j 

What are men more than brutes or cringing slaves, 

If sense and appetite alone control 

Their being here ? Starvation of the soul. 

In Heaven's impartial sight, is worse by far 

Than nature's yearning cries of hunger are ; 

For though death claims at last our mortal lives, 

We do not die, — the spirit still survives, 



BEAUTY. 109 

Dwells evermore in some diviner sphere, 
More radiant than that which holds us here ; 
Whose very air, and light, and life must be 
Composed of beauty, love, and purity. 

Life may be sanctified by care and pain ; 

An earthly loss may be a heavenly gain ; 

And should the clouds of sorrow o'er us meet, 

And all seem dark before our faltering feet, 

The angel Beauty walks her radiant way : 

Oh, follow her ! She never leads astray ; 

For where on earth her fairy feet have trod, 

We trace a starry pathway up to God. 

Hov\^ many kingly spirits hath she led ! 

How hath she loved the unforgotten dead ! - 

She dwelt with Shakspeare, and his dome-like brain 

Filled all the world with one melodious strain ; 

She stood unveiled before great Milton's sight, 

And thrilled his soul with visions of delight : 



no BEAUTY. 

And when God's finger touched his holy eyes, 

She turned for him the key of paradise ; 

She pressed her lips on Byron's haughty brow, 

And swept his harp with songs that echo now ; 

She followed Dante's thorny path to fame, 

And bound his gloomy brow with wreaths of flame ; 

She sang to Wordsworth, crowned with wayside flowers, 

And woke within his heart immortal powers ; 

She came to Shelley on the skylark's wing. 

And in the crown of Burns, the peasant king, 

She twined a mountain daisy, wet with dew, 

And he was numbered with the deathless few. 

And if with prayer and praise thy heart is filled. 

Its fever cooled, its stormy passions stilled. 

If thou dost catch faint glimpses of that shore 

Where sorrow dies, and parting is no more. 

And thou canst almost solve death's mystery, 

Oh, then, God's handmaid. Beauty, dwells with thee ! 



ODE OF WELCOME. Ill 



ODE OF WELCOME TO THE SOxNS AND 
DAUGHTERS OF PORTSMOUTH, N. H. 

At the Reunion, July 4, 1873. 



^rpfe^HERE robed in beauty vale and upland lie, 



wm 



'MM\ Bathed in the glory of this summer sky ; 



Where evermore 
The beat of ocean on the rocky shore 
Makes music wild and sweet; 
And ever free the fleet, 

Blue river winds by isle and bay ; 
O Brothers, wandering far for many a year, 
O Sisters dear, 
We welcome you to-day ! 



112 ODE OF WELCOME. 

O happy bells, ring out ! 

Each breast resiDonsive thrills ; 
Ye valleys and ye hills, 
Give back our greeting-shout ! 
While strains of sweetest music charm the air, 

And starry banners float in skies of blue ; 
And blossoming arch, and wreathed column bear 
The heart's endearing language warm and true. 

What recollections throng; 

What tender thoughts arise, 

As here, beneath your native skies. 
Once more ye stand ! 
Here live the echoes of your cradle-song ; 

This is the fairy realm of childhood's time ; 

Youth's blest Arcadian clime ; 

The dream of manhood's prime ; 

The shrine of age ; th' Enchanted Land, 
By airs of memory gently fanned ; 



ODE OF WELCOME. II3 

The dearest spot beneath the heaven's blue dome ; — 

This, this is Home. 
Home, with its streams and woods ; 
Its. cool, green solitudes 

In sylvan places ; 
Its favorite haunts remembered long and well ; 
Home, where dear kindred dwell, 

And friendly faces 
Reflect our own and kindly greeting give ; 
Where many a loved one lies in dreamless rest 
In yonder church-yard by the moaning wave ; 

(Ah ! nevermore 

By sea or shore, 
Shall hand in hand be joined, or lip to lip be prest ; 
Still they are wdth us here, 
We feel their presence near; 

They speak to us, and soul to soul replies 

For love, love never dies ; 
Love is a flower that evermore shall live; 



114 ODE OF WELCOME. 

Of heavenly birth, 

It knows no blight of earth, 
And blossoms even on the dusty grave ; ) 
Home^ with its memories sweet, its hopes, its fears. 
Its gladness and its tears. 

O fair, sweet Mother, cradled by the Sea ! 
Thy wandering children rest 
Once more upon thy breast 
Where they have longed to be ! 
Where'er they roamed, beneath what alien skies 

Their lot was cast. 
Their thoughts still turned to thee, 
And homesick tears have gathered to their eyes : 

Thou wert the star whose ray 
Shone o'er the dusky pathway of the past, 

And led them where their fondest treasures lay. 

And we who never from thy side have strayed ; 
Whose hearts to thine are ever closely laid ; 



ODE OF WELCOME. 115 

In thy dear name we welcome them again ; 
Our hearts go out to meet them ; 
Our hands stretch forth to greet them j 
Our lips rehearse once more 
The welcome-song of yore, 
And answering lips repeat the joyful strain. 
And they, thy noble sons, 
The brave, true-hearted ones 

Who fought in Freedom's name, 
For country and for thee ; — 

Amid this festal scene 
We keep their memories green ; 
Whether upon the blood-stained field they fell, 
Or where the battle-flame 
Lit up the wreck upon the heaving sea ; 

Whether they languished in the weary cell. 
Or, worn with pain, they turned to thee for rest, 
And died upon thy breast ; 

Where'er for us they perished 



Il6 ODE OF WELCOME. 

Each patriot soul is cherished ; 

Where'er their graves are found, 
To us 'tis hallowed ground ; 

And there on each returning Spring 

The sweetest flowers we bring. 

O Brothers, wandering far for many a year, 
O Sisters dear, 

In this our glad reunion 
Our hearts as one are beating ! 
One joyous impulse every breast elates ; 

And though the parting word be spoken, 
The spell shall not be broken ; 
The warm and heartfelt greeting, 
The sweet communion ; 
The charm that rests on river, sea and shore, 

The hue of sky and plain ; 
These, in the mystic wreath that Memory twines, 
Shall be the fadeless flowers ; 



ODE OF WELCOME. 11/ 

And thoughts of these glad hours 
Shall blend with visions of a happier sphere 
Than that which holds us here ; 
A summer land that lieth far away ; 
Where late or soon 
Our paths shall join again 

Divided nevermore. 
A city measured with the golden reed, 
Whose walls are jasper, and whose gates 
(Each gate a pearl) close not by day. 
And whose foundations broad 

With precious stones are bright ; 
A home that hath no night, 
Nor any need 
Of sun or moon, 
But where for ever shines 

The glory of the Lord. 



SONNETS. 



TO T. B. A. 




'^HE lapse of waters in dim woods; the chime 
Of distant bells ; the rustle of green trees 
By night winds stirred ; the drowsy hum of bees 
In gardens where the honeysuckles climb ; 
The cricket's carol, voiced in pulse-like time; 
The symphony of rain-drops on the roof, — 
All haunted me ; yet slumber kept aloof; 
Until at last, O friend, thy tuneful rhyme 
Came singing through the dark, as I have heard 
In autumn twilights, with a glad surprise, 



20 TO T. B. A. 

The sudden note of some belated bird. 
Entranced I listened to thy magic strain, 
Till soon the hovering angel touched my eyes 
And in sweet dreams I heard the low refrain. 




A LOCK OF FA RR A GUT'S HAIR. 



121 



ON A LOCK OF FARRAGUT'S HAIR. 



S'pfe^ilTHIN this crystal, circled with fine o^old, 
I keep my treasure with a miser's care ; 
A silken curl of silver-sprinkled hair 
Cut from a Hero's brow ; who, strong and bold, 
Undaunted stood aloft when loudest rolled 
The ship's live battle-thunder through the air; 
All things for Freedom prompt to do and dare. 
As noble thou as any knight of old 
Whose lustrous deed Time hath not overcast. 
Thine was the victor's crown, the wreath of fame, 
The grateful homage paid to Freedom's son ; — 
Thus be thy memory and thy honored name 
Embalmed within the heart while time shall last, 
With those of Lincoln and of Washington. 



122 



TRAILING ARBUTUS. 



TRAILING ARBUTUS. 




EAR, lovely flower, whose fragrant lips unclose 
To breathe a benediction to the Spring, 
Soon as the blue-bird and the robin sing j 
Sweetest and best that in the woodland grows ; 
Flushed like the morn, or white as drifted snows ; 
I love thee as a herald of the hours 
That bring the beauteous train of forest flowers, 
And all fair things God's lovins: hand bestows. 
But most for her sweet sake who held thee dear ; 
\\'ho, in glad Springs, roamed with me hand in hand 
These mossy paths where now alone I stray ; 
And yet whose gentle presence seems so near, 
I half forget her angel feet to-day 
Walk the green pastures of the better land. 




AFTER-BLOOM. 12; 



AFTER-BLOOM. 

WEET winter roses, stainless as the snow, 
As was thy life, O tender heart and true ! 
A cross of lilies that our tears bedew, 
A garland of the fairest flowers that grow, 
And filled with fragrance as the thought of thee, 
We lay, with loving hand, upon thy breast, 
Wrapt in the calm of Death's great m3^stery ; 
Ours still to feel the pain, the unlanguaged woe, 
The bitter sense of loss, the vague unrest. 
And wear unseen the cypress-leaf and rue. 
Thinking, the while, of lovelier flowers that blow 
In everlasting gardens of the blest, 
That wither not like these, and never shed 
Their rare and heavenly odors for the dead. 



124 ASLEEP. 



ASLEEP. 




ALF veiled by the delaying twilight, lies 
Each happy child. On eyes divinely blue 
Slumber has fallen gently as the dew 
On sleeping flowers. Beneath the open skies, 
As careless as the tinselled butterflies, 
For them the long June day too quickly fled. 
O kindred angels, linger near and spread 
Your sheltering pinions ! Ere the faint light dies, 
And fades the lovely vision from the sight, — 
The pillowed beauty and the perfect rest, — 
Would that some Raphael might the picture limn. 
Too late ! the shadows deepen into night ; 
And thinking such as these the dear Christ blessed, 
With thankful love our hearts go out to Him. 



TO J. G. JV. 125 




TO J. G. W. 

PIE world is wanting in great souls like thine, 
I'or thou art one, unheeding scorn and blame, 
\Vho dares to battle in dear Freedom's name, 
As if thy heart was mailed with power divine. 
Thou art a hater of all human wrong, 
x\nd thy barbed thoughts at Tyranny are hurled. 
Thou break'st the silence of the slumbering world, 
With sounding notes of deep and burning song. 
Unnerving arms that wield Oppression's rod ; 
Or with the music of some gentler strain. 
Thou steal 'st from life its weariness and pain. 
O Poet ! thou hast gained the smile of God, 
And won on earth a high and star-like name, 
To shine for ever in the sky of Fame. 




LBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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